


And Therefore is Winged Cupid Blind

by Civilbloodoncivilhands



Category: If We Were Villains - M.L. Rio
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-07-13 00:03:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16006064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Civilbloodoncivilhands/pseuds/Civilbloodoncivilhands
Summary: It's third year and they're doing an acting exercise. Richard's a dick. Oliver's oblivious. Alexander's queer. And James' whipped. So you know, business as usual.





	And Therefore is Winged Cupid Blind

Alexander never gets enough credit for his acting. It’s third year and we’re all still here, all seven of us- James, Wren, Richard, Meredith, Filippa and I- plus a few others. Making it to fourth year, obviously, is the goal, but making it to third year, whether we move on or not, is an accomplishment of its own. But some people (Richard) seem to think other people (Alexander) don’t deserve to be here. Sure, Alexander may be cynical and sarcastic and biting at times, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s a damn good actor.

Like right now. We’re in Gwendolyn’s class doing an exercise to ensure all our soliloquies are good and ready when it’s time to audition. If, at any point, we aren’t completely captivated by someone’s speech we need to turn around and not face them again until we can feel the emotion and the words and the lines as if they were speaking an intimate and sacred secret.

Alexander’s chosen to do Antony’s speech from _Julius Caesar_ and, although it’s not normally the type of part I would have chosen him to play, he’s pulling it off brilliantly. James, Richard, and I are sitting in the audience watching Alexander’s performance and I can’t help but stare at him a little awestruck. He’s given Antony an underlying layer of cunning and malice that contrasts marvellously with the text and I get the distinct feeling that he’s a politician of the people- corrupt, but only under the surface. One who puts the general population at ease and speaks for the common class all while working to fulfill his own means. I _know_ he’s corrupt, but I don’t care.

> _"Come I to speak in Caesar's funeral._
> 
> _He was my friend, faithful and just to me:_
> 
> _But Brutus says he was ambitious;_
> 
> _and Brutus is an honourable man."_

Alexander speaks calmly and looks each of us in the eye, firmly, inviting us to listen. His long, slender limbs reach for us, point at Caesar’s invisible body, gesticulate slowly. I can hear a quiver in his voice, whether in anger or sadness I cannot tell, but I know I’m not supposed to be able to. That’s what makes Alexander so terrifying and so fit to play the villain, the politician, the low and corrupt. His words never match what he’s actually saying. His emotions and his thoughts are always hidden and you can feel them hiding, feel them escaping you, and it makes you want to reach inside him, go deep inside his mind, and grasp them. But you know if you did that the illusion would break. The text would lose its power. Alexander’s power as an actor exists, not because he portrays emotion, but because he doesn’t.

> _“He hath brought many captives home to Rome_
> 
> _Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill:_
> 
> _Did this is Caesar seem ambitious? When that the poor have cried, Caesar hath wept:_
> 
> _Ambition should be made of sterner stuff_
> 
> _Yet Brutus says he was ambitious;_
> 
> _And Brutus is an honourable man.”_

His speech is impacting me in a way I never thought Alexander could, but Richard is turned around, his back stubbornly facing Alexander as he wanders up and down the stage in front of us. Richard turned around almost immediately during the first few lines of the soliloquy and hasn’t moved since.

I know why he hasn’t moved. So does Alexander. So does James. Richard always does this any time someone plays a character outside their typecast, and often when they play within their typecast too. He assumes he knows everything about the characters and that, because he often gets cast in lead roles, he knows how they should be played.

Richard is a good actor. He has a powerful voice that projects into every corner of the theatre and every move he makes- every step, every tilt of the head, every lift of a finger- is deliberate and strong. His dark complexion and wide figure demands attention and commands a room as easily as James’ princely demeanour draws every eye. But Richard just can’t seem to understand that good actors, great actors, shouldn’t act the way everyone else does. His technique and characterization are good and it works for him, but that doesn’t mean it will work for everyone else. That doesn’t mean it’s what Alexander should be doing.

> _“O judgement, thou art fled to brutish beasts,_
> 
> _And men have lost their reason! Bear with me;_
> 
> _My heart is in the coffin there with Caesar,_
> 
> _And I must pause till it come back to me.”_

Alexander finishes the speech with a flourish and looks out over our heads, chin protruding slightly, as James and I applaud and whistle our appreciation. Richard turns back around, his face taught and his eyes stony. He looks at me and James, sitting side by side, our knees pressed together, and I feel a little self-conscious. I feel like he’s judging us even though he‘s supposed to be judging Alexander.

Alexander bows dramatically and saunters over to the edge of the stage, draping his long figure over the side.

“Well?” He smirks at us, “How was that?”

“Really good--”

“Not bad,” Richard interrupts me and I sink back into my seat with a sigh knowing that there’s no way I’m going to be able to give Alexander feedback until Richard’s said exactly what he wants to say.

“But that’s not how Antony should be played. You know? He’s not one of the fucking conspirators! He’s a true and honest man. You’re making him too dramatic, too shifty. If you’re going to pull off Antony, which, for you, is going to be super fucking hard, you need to make him more regal. Make him command a room. Make him own his words instead of just borrowing them.”

Alexander tilts his head to the side and pretends to think about this for a while then shrugs indifferently, “I see where you’re coming from, but Antony is a politician for fuck’s sake! His entire tactic is to ‘borrow’ words. Use words that he knows people will respond to. He’s an asshole, nearly everyone in this play is anyway, and he makes shit up! He talks shit about other people! Maybe if you gave me critique about my Antony instead of just giving me your interpretation of the character I’d be able to take your comments more seriously.”

Alexander stares at Richard with a teasing expression on his face but it looks forced. I can feel the tension building in the room and James squeezes my hand gently to let me know he feels it too. I don’t remember when we started doing that, sensing each other’s emotions, but it’s a natural thing now. To try and comfort each other when we know the other person is feeling unsure or restless.

Richard grits his teeth and smiles back at Alexander, “Fine. Your Antony is too flamboyant.”

“What’s that supposed to mean.”

“Nothing. It’s just.... You play him like he’s- you know.”

“Yes?”

Alexander isn’t smiling anymore, not even pretending to, and I have a feeling he knows what Richard’s going to say before he says it.

“You’re making Antony too gay.”

“Noted.” Alexander stands up stiffly and walks over to the stage stairs. He comes into the audience, walking around the long way so he doesn’t have to pass Richard and sits down beside me, nudging me as he does so.

“Your turn Oliver.”

I nod and stand up without speaking. I’m nervous, and it’s not just because Alexander was really good. I can tell Richard is in a touchy mood today and I don’t even look forward to receiving feedback from him on his good days. Richard has this idea that there’s one right way to do things and one right way only. Unfortunately for me, I never seem to be able to do things that one right way. If Richard’s upset already there’s absolutely nothing that’s going to stop him from tearing into me, although, to be fair, my entire livelihood is going to rely on people judging me so I guess it’s better that I get used to it sooner rather than later.

I climb the stairs slowly, taking deep, calming breaths as I go, and make my way to centre stage. I turn around so my back is facing the audience and wiggle my toes a bit until I feel grounded, as if I now own the stage and the space and everyone else who’s ever walked upon it was merely passing through. The soliloquy I’ve chosen, like Alexander, is unusual for me. For who I am as an actor. It’s one of Ferdinand’s love scenes from _The Tempest_ (with Miranda’s lines cut out) and, as innocent and lighthearted as it is, it feels a little daunting. I’m not used to playing love scenes. My own life is so devoid of love that I have nothing real to draw upon and I’m not handsome or charming enough to have ever been cast in the role of the dashing young prince before. It almost feels like an intrusion upon James’ person. He’s the most good looking in our year, everyone agrees, and if we were to ever do _The Tempest_ he would surely be cast as Ferdinand while I would merely play the boatswain or someone else insignificant.

I suppose that’s why Richard got so mad at Alexander. Though he’d be far more likely to play Caesar than Antony, Antony is still a role more traditionally suited to Richard than Alexander. I suddenly feel self-conscious, like James is going to be angry with me if I do this monologue- which is ridiculous because, as far as I can remember, James has never been angry with me. Ever.

I can feel the pressure weighing in on me from all sides and my head starts to grow foggy. My vision is blurring a bit and I can feel myself trying to detach from the situation which sometimes happens when I get really nervous and can’t cope. This isn’t a good time to detach though. Ferdinand is in touch with his emotions and he knows exactly what he wants to say and exactly how to say it so Miranda knows that he’s being sincere. If I detach now I’ll never be able to pull off this soliloquy.

So I take a deep breath, close my eyes, and turn the nerves into something I can use. I picture an island with a clear blue sky above and a turquoise ocean lapping near my feet. I picture Miranda standing a couple of feet away from me and she’s the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. I picture my friends sitting in the audience waiting for me to begin and I see James giving me an encouraging smile. I turn the nerves of performing into nerves about proposing. I snap out of my trance and turn around briskly, my eyes finding James almost immediately sitting in a red leather seat four away from Richard, one away from Alexander, with a small, encouraging smile on his face. Just like I knew there would be. I decide to direct my soliloquy at him. Not for any particular reason. Just because James is familiar and familiar is grounding right now.

> _“Admired Miranda!_
> 
> _Indeed the top of admiration, worth_
> 
> _What’s dearest to th’ world!”_

I can see James’ eyes widen, for just a second, in surprise and then his face goes blank. He knows I like to use someone as much as possible as my point of focus and he’s done this often enough for me that he’s perfected being able to make me act the emotion alone without looking bored and disinterested himself.

> _“For several virtues_
> 
> _Have I liked several women._
> 
> _Never any with so full souls but some defect in her_
> 
> _Did quarrel with the noblest grace she owed_
> 
> _And put it to the foil”_

I can feel myself growing passionate, bringing up recollections of these old lovers, and I gesticulate wildly pulling a face of disgust and ferocity to make my point stronger.

> _“But you, O you”_

I let my voice grow softer. Gentler. More confiding and loving. Drawing out the ‘O’ as long as I dare; tasting the vowel fully on my tongue and letting it roll off sweetly before I continue.

> _“So perfect and so peerless, are created_
> 
> _Of every creature’s best.”_

My eyes haven’t left James’ face the entire time I’ve been speaking and I stare at him now, for just a moment, memorizing every curve of his nose, every sharp line of his jaw, seeing the softness of his lips and the gentle look in his eyes, before I continue.

> _“Hear my soul speak._
> 
> _The very instant that I saw you did_
> 
> _My heart fly to your service, there resides_
> 
> _To make me slave to it, and for your sake am I this patient log-man.”_

I bow deeply at the waist but refrain from lowering my head in order to keep my eyes focused on James. His face is no longer blank, which is unusual since he normally keeps it emotionless for the entirety of my soliloquies. This time, however, it’s sporting an emotion that I can’t place. He looks almost... pained. As if my monologue is hurting him far more than I could ever understand. He also looks confused and full of longing which is weird since he never has a problem with my playing outside my character type. He encourages it most of the time actually. I stumble over the next section of my monologue, nearly forgetting which words come after which, but continue speaking.

> _“O heaven, O earth, bear witness to this sound_
> 
> _And crown what I profess with kind event If I speak true!”_

I feel my heart beginning to race and I’m slowly forgetting it’s Miranda I’m speaking to and not James. For some reason I need him to know that I care about him and whatever he’s thinking right now, if it’s bad, I’ll try to fix it as best I can.

> _“If hollowly, invert_
> 
> _What best is boded me to mischief! I_
> 
> _Beyond all limit of what else i' th' world--”_

I don’t feel like I’m acting and somehow the words come to me as easily as if they were my own. I’ve given up trying to picture Miranda, since there’s no way she could look lovelier than James does at this moment, and I’m speaking completely to him now. James’ cheeks are tinged a very light shade of pink and his head is tilted down a little, as if in embarrassment, but his eyes don’t leave my face- looking up at me through long, dark lashes. I can feel my breath catch in my throat and I need to work very hard to choke out the final words.

> _“Do love, prize, honour you.”_

Silence comes over us and I breathe deeply trying to regain my senses. I honestly don’t know where any of that came from, but I suppose my emotions just got caught up in the text. James is still looking at me, his eyes gentle and reassuring and I can feel the corners of my mouth begin to turn up in a soft smile.

“Alright fine.” Richard stands up abruptly, startling me out of my trance and causing me to feel a little embarrassed and more than a little confused. He glares at me onstage then at James and Alexander sitting a couple seats away from him. “If you’re all so fucking bent on making your fucking monologues fucking queer I’m just going to go work with the girls.”

I watch him stalk over to Meredith, Wren and Filippa who greet him begrudgingly (Pip), with an accommodating smile (Wren), and with a flirtatious wave of the fingers (Meredith) then turn back around to face James and Alexander.

“What the hell was that about? What makes him think my- our- the monologues were... you know?”

I can feel my face turning red and I try to catch James’ eye, but he’s looking very intently at the floor and stubbornly refusing to lift his head even though I know he can feel me watching him. My stomach begins to churn and my heart beats against my chest going much faster than it has any right to be going. I regret asking the question. I’m not sure I want to know the answer.

Alexander is looking between me and James oddly, his eyebrows pinched together and his finger resting gently on his chin. He looks deep in thought and I know this is one of those times I’m grateful that I can’t tell what he’s thinking.

“Nothing,” he says after a moment, “He’s just being an asshole. Like always.”

James lifts his head, but he doesn’t look at me. He turns to face Alexander and gives him a grateful look, which Alexander acknowledges with a sharp nod and an understanding smile. I’m more confused than ever and have no idea what’s going on, but I know better than to ask.

**Author's Note:**

> Yay! First fanfic! I'm not too sure about characterization tho so comments will be super greatly appreciated. Also my first week of theatre school is fucking done and I'm absolutely spent but no one's been murdered yet so fingers crossed :)


End file.
